Shards of Twilight
by notbang
Summary: When the line between dreams and reality is blurred, and acts of the past, present and future become hopelessly tangled... sometimes all that can remain is shards of twilight.


****SEQ CHAPTER h r 1**Shards of Twilight**

**Summary: **When the line between dreams and reality is blurred, and acts of the past, present and future become hopelessly tangled... sometimes all that can remain is shards of twilight.

**Rating: **PG

**Genre:** General/Drama.

**Disclaimer: **Are you the author? I am today. Except I'm only pretending...****

**Notes: **So when I wrote Beauty and the Beast, I had this idea in my head of how I wanted it to be. It didn't turn out that way. This is my second take on it. Yes, similar concept, but a different story in a completely different style.

The tenses were screwing me around a bit, and I think the pacing's a bit off near the end (but man – don't you just hate writing endings?). Then again I'm never happy with anything so I give up. I need to work on Muggle Born. And my chemistry assignment :(

This one's for Bec S - who I miss thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis much and even more :)****

_In the real world_

_as__ in dreams,_

_nothing__ is quite_

_what__ it seems._

- the Book of Counted Sorrows__

**_Tick, tock._****_ Tick, tock. Tick..._**__

__

_'Why were you there?'_

_'Doing my job.'___

_'Your job?'___

_'Yeah.__ And some job it is, too. Did you ever say, 'Hey, mommy - when I grow up, I want to work for the Centre?' I didn't. But somehow I ended up here, chasing this moron named Jarod and his overrated brain from one end of the country to the other.'_

_'Chased, Miss Parker,' the man corrected. 'Chased.'_

She would go to Florida on a whim. Broots wouldn't get lucky, Sydney wouldn't cave and Jarod wouldn't slip up.

She'd get a gut feeling, and she'd act on it.

There would be no sweepers. She would be driven by pure instinct - drawn to Miami like a moth to the light and she'd know it involved Jarod for the mere fact that everything did. Travelling alone, by Centre jet and by cab once she arrived, she'd allow her extra sensory perception to lead her to him.

And, eventually, she'd find him.

**I need to get out of here. I need a drink. I need a cigarette. I need...**

**What do you need?**

**I need to get out of here.**

**You don't know what you need. You never have.**

**I know exactly what I need.**

**What do you need?**

**I need to get out of here.**

**_Step, step, step..._**

****

**_Heavily souled shoes on a pristine floor which was a glaringly blunt paradox; untainted and dazzlingly white, and yet reeking of hidden sin._**

**_Buzzing, soft as silk with just the edge to irritate her because they knew she was critical when it came to detail._**

****

**_And even as she sat, waiting; the hum of something not quite human, rolling along on the polished ironies at their feet..._**

_'What was your relationship with the deceased?'_

_'Jarod.__ His name is Jarod. You took everything else away from him. Don't deny him the one thing he could call his own.'_

_'What was your relationship with him?'_

_Her eyes grew distant as she stared down at the cigarette in her hand; the one she hadn't lit._

_'He ran. I chased.'_

**__**

****

Jarod would be looking good. Dressed in black jeans and a black tank that clung to his muscled chest in an enticing way beneath an open flannel shirt. Dark sunglasses and hair that was nowhere near as long as it had been on Carthis, and yet long enough so that the tips curled a little, over his forehead and above his ears. She'd experience that strange sense of attraction that had always existed beneath the thrill of the chase but had always denied, and for a moment, she would hesitate.

He was destined to catch her eye and she would falter under his piercing gaze.

They'd see it in each other's eyes.

They were too tired. Tired of running. Tired of fighting.

Tired...

Just so goddamn tired...

**__**

****

**They're trying to get at you.**

**I know. They always are. They never do.**

**Do you really believe that?**

**I have to.**

**Why?**

**Because they'd kill me if I didn't.**

**_There were cobwebs in the corners, she noticed. Cobwebs, so haphazard it had to be deliberate. She had never liked spiders and that was why they were there._**

****

**_Bright lights, lights just as concealing as the black voids surrounding. Lights intended to blind someone who had spent her life struggling in shadows._**

****

**_A soft chime, and a gentle whoosh. She knew it; like an old friend she had once corresponded with but had gradually lost touch with over the years._**

****

**_The ping of an elevator, and the faint hiss of air as the doors slid open._**

****

**_The bullet hit her just as surely as if it were real, and the cruel pain of deja vu sliced through her heart..._**

****

_'Did you love him?'_

_'Excuse me?'_

_'You heard me.'_

_'I didn't realise you were capable of making a statement. Everything you've said since I got here has ended in a question mark.'_

_'Please answer the question.'_

_'No.'_

The twilight that morning would be brilliant. A radiant flash of electric blue, obscured by the rugged horizon and made attractive by all its imperfections.

Both would see it before their meeting; both from other sides of the country.

When they met, they would see it in each other's eyes.

They would see they were both tired...

...and they would see the twilight.

__

**Who are you?**

**You know who I am.**

**I don't know you. I've never seen you in my life.**

**Haven't you?**

**No.**__

__

**_There was sobbing. It was the sobbing of a child, and somehow she knew it to be her own. Her own sorrow and her own torment, eating her up inside and out._**

****

**_She felt each quiet drop echo as it hit the white tiles and every falling tear_**_ **was like acid, hot and icy against weary skin.**_

****

**_She tried to block it out, but nothing she did could remove the haunting sound of a girl, lost and alone in the world, crying for her mother, from her ears._**__

__

_'To which?'___

_'To which what?' she snapped in annoyance._

_'Your answer - what was it in relation to?'_

_'Your question.__ No - I didn't love him.'_

_'You were crying at the scene. That implies that you at least felt for him.'_

_'Shock,' she said dismissively._

_'Is that all?'_

_There was a pause before she replied._

_'I felt for him,' she said slowly. 'He and I were practically one and the same. I didn't love him.'_

_'Is that the truth?'_

_'The truth is a funny thing.'_

_'Nobody here is laughing, Miss Parker.'_

_'Are you asking me if I'm lying?'_

_'I'm asking you if you're telling the truth.'_

_'There's a difference, you know.'_

_'Do you believe so?'_

_'It's not a matter of believing. Nothing ever is. I might be lying. But I'm telling the truth.'_

_'Where is the difference?'_

_'There's the truth. There's purity and absolution and redemption. You can lie and deceive and betray... but someone's always willing to forgive you. How is that?'_

_'Where is the difference, Miss Parker?'_

_'The truth is blunt. The truth is sharp and it stings with the force of an army of wasps. The truth knows no antonym_ _because it is its own nemesis. The truth defies itself; truth is betrayal. The line's only there for clarity.'_

****

The day would be cold. He would step towards her and she in turn would take a step back, but allow him his approach.

She'd figure she owed it to him.

In a moment of weakness, tears would shine in her eyes at seeing him, so beautiful against the frosted sky, and that would be her undoing.

She would be forced to make a choice. Sick of fighting, she'd throw in her sword and choose to surrender.

He would allow it to happen, and that would be his undoing.****

****

**They're going to kill me. They're going to do it right here, and no one would ever know, no one would ever notice I'm gone...**

**They won't kill you. You're the new Parker legacy.**

**Never.******

**You can't deny it.**

**I can deny it all I like. I've spent my whole life...**

**You know it, don't you?**

**No.**

**Say it.**

**No.**

**Say it.**

**No...**

**Denying it makes it real. Otherwise, what would there be to deny?**

****__

**_The temperature in the room changed often. Shifted from stifling heat to an uncomfortable chill that settled over her skin and refused to let her relax. She didn't hold herself rigid, conveying flippancy in order to keep herself alive a little longer._**

****

**_Everything was about control._**

****

**_Tick, tock._****_ Tick, tock. Tick..._**__

__

_'You and the deceased -'_

_'Jarod,' she interrupted._

_'- were friends as children, correct?'_

_She gave a sad, bitter laugh._

_'Is that what it was?' She shook her head in reply to her own question. 'How can you call it that? How can you use the word friend - a word implying it were a normal, day to day relationship, when everything about it was just another sim? Our introduction? Our separation? How can you call us children?'_

_A tear she had been unaware existed slid down her cheek, and for once in her life she didn't wipe it away._

_'We were never allowed to be children.'_

__

She would have stood in front of the mirror that morning, gun in hand. She would have been torn between taking it with her and leaving it behind.

She'd take it with her.__

__

**I didn't kill him.**

**Didn't you?**

**I never would have killed him.**

**Your finger was on the trigger.**

**It always was. But I never...**

**Everyone has a breaking point.**

**I didn't kill him.**

**Didn't you? Why did you do it? Was it because you loved him? Just like you loved Thomas and killed him? Just like you loved your mother and -**

**_No._******

**No. But you did kill him. You killed him _for_ killing Thomas. For killing your mother...**

**It wasn't his fault.**

**But you never believed that, did you?**

****

**_She'd never been alone in the room; she'd known that. There were others. _**

****

**_They were lurking in the shadows, biding their time. Waiting._**

****

**_It reached the freezing point of water and she shivered for the first time, against everything she stood for. Ice queens didn't feel. They weren't affected by the cold._**

****

**_She'd forced herself not to look, not to give in - but now she couldn't help herself. To the far left was a woman, dressed in grey with a dirt smeared and tear streaked face. She was leaning over a basin. _**

****

**_A basin, filled with water stained bright red like blood._**

****

**_She was washing her hands._**

****

**_Washing the blood from her hands..._**

****

**__******

_'Were you, or, to your knowledge, any of your team, assisting the deceased in any way?'_

_'His name is Jarod.'_

_'Miss Parker.'_

_'I can't give you a straight answer.'_

_'Why not?'___

_'It isn't a straight question.'_

_'In what way?'___

_'Nothing about Jarod is simple. He sees things as black and white but the world doesn't work like that - it's too damn complicated for anyone to understand.'_

_'Why do you speak of the deceased in present tense?'_

_'Out of habit, I suppose.'_

_'Miss Parker... you are aware that Jarod is dead. He died from a bullet to the heart.'_

_She glanced up and held his gaze with crisp, crystalline eyes._

_'I know that.'_

****

Jarod would have been tired. He would have just finished a hard day's work - a pretend, as a construction worker, endeavouring to uncover the truth behind the collapsing of a building that had killed a man, his child, and seriously injured his wife.

He would have been dirty. His hair tousled, his skin covered in a thin layer of sweat.

He would have looked fiercely handsome, and, ultimately, she would have given into the urge.

He would have kissed her, and she would have allowed him.

If only.

****

**He had nothing to do with mom or Tommy dying.**

**You said it yourself - he had something to do with everything.**

**... He still does.**

**_Splash, splash - as the water sloshed against the sides of the basin._**

****

**_She knew what was going on. It was all about control. Attempts to tap into her psyche, attempts to manipulate her._**

****

**_When the second bullet was fired, she barely even heard it._**

_'How did you know he would be there?'_

_'Jarod?'___

_'That is who we have been talking about.'_

_'I didn't.'_

_'You didn't?'_

_'Well, I didn't know for sure, if that's what you mean. I just... knew.'_

_'You followed basic instinct to __Miami__. You found Jarod there.'_

_'I did.'_

_'And?'___

_'And?' she echoed._

_'And what happened then?'_

_'There's nothing left to tell.'_

__

If he had have known, he would have tried to stop her. He would have convinced her, too. His hand would have found hers and she would have held it instead of the gun.

He would take her pain away for a short while, and she would cherish it and she would appreciate everything he had ever done for her.

But she could never love him.

**Who are you?**

**You know who I am.**

**I don't know you.**

**You do. You're just not ready to admit it yet.**

**Why not?**

**Because you know what would happen if you did.**

**What?**

**You know. Deep down, you know.**

__

**_The man opposite her had no identity. His face was painted white; one eye circled in a red reminiscent of the water in the basin._**

****

**_Blood._****__**

****

**_Beady eyes were perched on his shoulder. Feathers sleek and shiny, and they reminded her of oil. They watched, and they listened._**

****

**_They played on her guilt and they would continue, because they were willing to wait until she cracked._**

****

**_Control._****__**

****

**__**

_'Did you kill him?'_

_'No.'_

_'Are you sure?'_

_'Yes... if I can be sure about being sure. It's hard to be sure about anything these days. Especially,' she said with contempt, 'when it concerns the Centre.'_

_'Are you aware of the consequences of his death?'_

_'I get the feeling you're going to tell me anyway.'_

_'Now that Jarod has gone, I'm sure you realize you have become expendable. Your talents are no longer required to bring the pretender back.'_

_'That much is obvious.'_

__

His lips would have tasted of salt and sweat; hers of cigarette smoke and alcohol and the mint she would have sucked on in the car because she would have been nervous.

Though she would never admit it.

**Who are you?**

**Why do you always ask questions you already know the answers to?**

**Who are you?**

**Who are you?**

**Who are you?**

****

**_Beady eyes, feathers sleek and shiny and they reminded her of oil. Watching, listening._**

****

**_The raven cried out._**

****

**__**

****

_'Miss Parker... did you and the deceased ever participate in any... activities, of a sexual nature?'_

_'You mean, did I ever screw him?'_

_She took the silence as an affirmation._

_'No.'_

_'Did you love him?'_

_'I think we've already established the answer to this question.'_

_'Did you love him?'_

_'I couldn't.'_

_'What do you mean?'_

_'It was never possible. The Centre would never have allowed it.'_

_'If it were possible... hypothetically speaking, had the opportunity presented itself... would you have?'_

_'May I ask what relevance speculation has to what happened?'_

_'Did you love him?'_

_'No.'_

On a different day, she would have acted differently.

But this day she would be afraid; more so than before. Her fear would be a tangible thing, though he had always been able to sense it anyway.

Her brother, the twin she would have grown to trust, as she would have had no one else to turn to, would have made sure she had been followed.

The kiss of salt and sweat and cigarette smoke and alcohol and the mint she would have sucked in the car would have been interrupted, and she would have frozen. Stock still, and she would have panicked.

He would have panicked too, and he would have run as fast as he could.

But she would have been afraid. He wouldn't take her hand and so hers would go for the gun instead.

He could have made it but he cared for her, and he would hesitate and turn around, because he would be hoping for one last glimpse.

She wouldn't want him to leave. Pure adrenaline would take over because she would be willing to do anything to get him to stay because she would have felt that if he left, she'd be alone forever more.

And she wouldn't - couldn't - let that happen.

It would be an act of desperation.

**Who are you?**

**I am you and you are me.**

**I'm not you.**

**We are one and the same.**

**I didn't kill him.**

**Didn't you? You pulled the trigger.**

**No.**

****

**_The click of heels on the cold, sterile floor._****_ The staccato was her own, from when she had roamed the hallways unafraid with her head held high and when most had been too cowardly to look her in the eye._**

****

**_Tick, tock._****_ Tick, tock. Tick..._**

****

**_She knew she wouldn't be able to take it much longer. Bringing back her childhood had been cruel, but to make her sit through the present… the present, where living it once was hardly bearable… _**

****

**__**

_'So you cared for him, Miss Parker. You were with him before he died. You -'_

_'How many times are we going to go over this?'_

_'Why did you do it?'_

_She didn't flinch._

_'Do what?'_

_'Kiss him?'_

_'Because he kissed me.'___

_'Why did you do it?'_

_'Because deep down, I guess I cared.'_

_'Did you kill him?'_

__

Her feet would be frozen in place. She would scare herself by doing it but she would have lost all control; given into the impulse to stop him from leaving her, stop him from running away as he had so many times before…

Her finger would be resting on the trigger.

**Think.**

**I didn't kill him.**

**Think about it. Did you pull the trigger?**

**No!**

**Did you pull the trigger?**

**No… yes… maybe…**

**Did you pull the trigger?**

**I don't know…**

**Did you pull the trigger?**

**__**__

**_Time._****__**

****

**_Terror._****__**

****

**_Trepidation._****__**

****

**_Tick._****__**

****

**_Tick._****__**

****

**_Talons._****__**

****

**_Taming._****__**

****

**_Tick._****__**

****

**_Tock_****_._****__**

****

**_Total control..._**

****

**_T..._**

****

**_T is for T-board..._**

****

_'No.'_

She would squeeze...

**Yes…**

****

**_The raven cried out, and the note was the tune of death and damnation. Water sloshed against the side of the basin and the elevator chimed again... whoosh, step, step..._**

****

**_...crying, sobbing, and she knew it was her..._**

****

**_Tick, tock._****_ Tick, tock. Tick…_**

****

**_...breaking..._**

****

**__**__

_'Did you pull the trigger?'_

_The icy blue eyes were empty and void of any signs of life._

_'Yes.'_

_'Did you kill him?'_

_'No.'_

_'Did you kill him?'_

_'No.'_

_'But you pulled the trigger.'_

_'I didn't kill him.'_

_Her tone was steady and hollow, and she looked at the man with the painted white face and the red circled eye as she spoke._

_'I made him stay.'_

.::fin::.

Yes, Miss P has mental problems. But don't we all? She had to crack some time.

The T-board was something that grabbed me from the beginning. I confess that I find the Jarod half of that particular ep quite tedious, but I love the T-board, and not just for Miss P's comments. It fascinates me. I love all the freaky people writing notes and whispering and wearing weird clothes designed to get to you. I thought it was great, and I'd been wanting to explore it in a fic since forever. I'd still like to do it again someday, because this still didn't come out quite right.

I think I need to stop killing Jarod. It's not very nice of me. Maybe it's about time I killed Miss P instead. Or maybe Jarod should just die from some other reason than Miss P shooting him.

Or maybe I should just stop killing people altogether...


End file.
